○In recent weeks, ITV has been heavily following Out There with teasers that sound like a combination of Happy Valley, Countryfile and the Liam Neeson revenge thriller Taken. Martin Clunes plays Nathan Williams, a Welsh farmer whose feeble son Johnny is manipulated into joining County Lines' drug-trafficking operation. The film is drenched in Ozark blue hues, and in its opening moments appears to present itself as a dark piece of unpleasant country noir.
But beneath the topsoil, 'Out There' is much more solid than you'd expect. If, like me, you were really looking forward to seeing Dr. Martin do what he does best, then you're in luck with the “I'll Find You, I'll Find You and I'll Kill You” imitation. After losing his French wife Sabine several years ago, Nathan became a single parent. Their daughter had already left the family farm and emigrated to Europe, unable to bear the aftermath of her mother's death, while Johnny (Louis Ashbourne Serkis) was 15 and still attending school. She has been neglecting her normal activities to the point that Nathan is concerned. You will be called for a conversation with your teacher. Instead of playing sports, Johnny now spends most of his time in his bedroom playing video games. In the first episode, a family drama is revealed, while a criminal undercurrent bubbles and bides its time until it begins to unravel.
Out There is a great atmospheric contrast between Nathan's world and Johnny's. Nathan is an old-fashioned farmer, grumpy and pragmatic, who resents the encroachment on his land and livelihood by politics, industrialization, and hyper-capitalism. He tells his son things like, “One day, this is all going to be yours,” but the son doesn't seem too excited about the idea of having to take over and graft on. Nathan hammers a fence post and then shoots a mysterious drone hovering over the farm, while Danny takes a pop shot via his on-screen avatar.
The harsh existence of a farmer is well depicted, at least to my semi-urban sensibilities. There are frustrating conversations about land use, shared boundaries and public facilities, the anxiety of uncertain tuberculosis test results, and the stress of eking out an increasingly elusive livelihood. People are constantly under threat of hostile takeovers. Nathan previously rented out one of his barns for vacations, but neighboring farms were having to choose between mass egg production and glamping. (They naturally choose eggs.) A businessman in a shiny Audi, wearing a suit and boots, floats by, but his intentions are not yet clear.
So even before the gang enters, this is not a bright January watch. While Nathan managed to keep his head above water, the same can't be said for the other farmers. The sudden tragedy draws our attention to the changing economic circumstances of the region. At least in the first two episodes, it feels more like a national drama than a cold thriller, but it's clear that it's moving toward a deeper and broader conspiracy. Companies are buying up local farmland for commercial use. Animal rights activists are protesting big industries that are bringing jobs to areas that desperately need them. These issues are discussed over pints in a pub that appears to be one of the only local businesses doing a brisk trade.
Amid this flammable concoction, a criminal underworld proliferates. This is where the real action begins, as the illegal drug trade follows a similar, if not legal, business model. Local troublemaker Reece (Gellan Howell, last seen in Ludwig as the opposite, timid DC Simon Evans) asks Johnny to keep his luggage. He says where he lives is a “junkie hub” and not safe. Poor and naive Johnny, feeling sad and miserable, agrees primarily to impress his spouse. But then the package goes missing and Johnny suddenly finds himself entangled with some serious people.
When Nathan shows up, he's frankly fed up with everyone's crap and tries to sort out Johnny's problems as if they were small and manageable. However, they are not small, nor are they easy to handle. It takes a while to get there, but by the end of episode two, I'm in it. It's more thoughtful and less direct than it appears from the trailer, but it's moody, emotionally charged, and quietly chilling. And ultimately, the sight of Martin Clunes waving a shotgun and saying “fuck you” to a party full of kids in a Welsh accent is an unexpected January treat.
